Messed
by sleep learning
Summary: For the briefest of moments Ichigo mused over how easy life would be if the pants came with instructions.


The training room beneath Urahara's shop was thick with the smell of exertion and a faint smell of blood. A heavily ripped shirt lay abandoned in a heap amongst a growth of stunted, dead trees. It was probably for the best, or at least Ichigo thought so. The hideous 60's inspired abomination of Renji's had received the most fitting of endings by the persecution of Zangetsu. The only hope now was that nobody –nobody meaning Rukia - persuaded Inoue to 'reject' the heinous shirt's timely death.

Resting Zangetsu against a rock, Ichigo rubbed his eye, smearing blood along his fist as he did so. He could hear footsteps travelling towards him, about to emerge into view from the weaving formation of rocks. He wiped his hand through his hair, only managing to cover his hair in blood and his hands in dirt, the grains creating an irritating sensation in the grazed skin of his knuckles.

"You can't have the shirt back Renji. I'd rather kill you than look at it."

"I don't _want _the shirt thankyou. And I'm horrified that you would mistake that foul mouthed, arrogant _Shinigami _with the refined likes of _me_."

Ishida smiled lightly at Ichigo as the substitute shinigami made his way towards him, his own version of a grin plastered on his face. The grin faltered slightly as Ishida held out a hand in a stopping motion.

"Not any closer."

Ichigo crossed his arms, a familiar scowl across his face.

"What the hell! You're a fighter. You've been messed up before. You choose now to be even more of nit picking freak?"

"You're _filthy_. You're all covered in sweat and dirt and blood, not to mention you were fighting with Abarai, so god knows what else…"

Ichigo glowered, his arms pressed tighter as Ishida looked at his hands, inspecting a nail between his thumb. He yelled – though Ichigo thought it sounded more like a squawk or a shriek than anything else- and protested as Ichigo pushed him into a nearby rock, arms trapping him on either side.

"Get… Off… Me…"

His face was unbelievably close to Ishida's, but Ichigo could still see his features contorting into a picture of disgust, and –more importantly- rage.

"…No."

Ishida began another verbal assault which Ichigo promptly cut off by crushing his own mouth to Ishida's. He wasn't exactly sure of the reaction he would get, but the occasional stolen kiss and hidden grope was proving _frustrating,_ to the point were Ichigo was now willing to push the boundaries. His behaviour so far seemed to be rewarding, as their tongues entwined. Ishida's actions were languid and controlled; taking everything in leisurely while Ichigo pressed further, his motions hurriedly feral as he explored the opening before him. He pushed his body into the Quincy, Ishida's back now pressing heavily into the rock as Ichigo's tongue snaked along his teeth, before finding the other appendage again, sucking eagerly as a hand found its way into Ishida's hair. Another hand gripped his arm, holding it in place as Ichigo continued to bruise Ishida's lips, revelling in the slick warmth of their fused mouths. Ichigo pulled away, his attention now to the throat before him. His hands gripped the waist crushed against his as he delivered random kisses to every piece of exposed skin, his teeth nipping gently at first, then noticeably harder, catching what he could between his teeth, sucking with urgent need, giving a final drawn out brush of his tongue before finding another spot to ravage.

"Urgh, I hope you know you're getting blood on me."

Ichigo ignored him, his hands sliding underneath his shirt –a colour and design he hadn't even paid attention to and now couldn't recall, only noticing it wasn't needed any longer. He placed a leg between Ishida's, unconsciously rubbing, the friction only managing to harden him further.

"…Ichigo" his voiced sounded annoyed, and Ichigo responded by grabbing hold of the shirt and pulling upwards, struggling when Ishida showed no signs of lifting his arms to help.

"I supposed you want me to assist you in mauling me even more?"

Unable to get the shirt higher, Ichigo held it up with a hand as he made contact with Ishida's collar bone, his tongue trailing down and sliding over a nipple. He resumed trying to remove the shirt while his tongue caressed – an almost lapping style that reminded Ishida of a cat… a giant, hormonal and ultimately irresistible cat.

Ishida sighed -seeming to give in- and lifted his arms high, the shirt immediately lifted above him and dropped to the ground. Though it hadn't seemed possible, Ichigo seemed to become even more frenzied, moaning audibly as Ishida returned his advances. Well shaped nails trailed across Ichigo's back while an eager mouth searched for his own, swallowing his breathes, sliding along the roof of his mouth and teasing his lips with knee buckling suction.

Ichigo's hand trailed down Ishida's chest, sliding into pants which recently seemed to have become incredibly confining. Ichigo's body froze, his mind catching up with his hand as his face contorted into confusion. Mouth still open and breathing heavily, Ishida waited, as if the sudden stand still was perfectly normal.

"…go on."

Ichigo continued panting, his fingers still hooked onto the belt holes of Ishida's pants. He remained looking down, expectantly, as if the answer could be found from staring at both of their arousals. For the briefest of moments Ichigo mused over how easy life would be if the pants came with instructions.

"Where did all that confidence go? I was under the impression you were on some sort of mission. Why falter now?" Ishida's voice oozed contempt, sliding its way into Ichigo's head and teasing a scowl onto his face.

"Bastard..." the murmur was quiet, and Ishida could feel the breath behind it flutter onto his neck. His smile widened; his amusement noticeable.

"You shouldn't try to play the big boy, Ichigo. You get me dirty, ruin my clothes, and now you won't even go through with it?"

"Shut up"

"That's not very nice"

"I'm not… faltering…" Ichigo seemed confused, his finger wrapping around a stray strand of hair as his eyes flickered randomly over the body in front of him.

"What are you doing then?"

Ichigo tucked the hair behind Ishida's ear, his frown deepening with determination.

"I'm…" Ichigo's broken murmurs paused as he noticed the panicked look spreading across Ishida's face.

A hand shot up quickly to cover his mouth and Ichigo made a muffled protest, his eye's shooting daggers. Ishida raised a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and Ichigo's eye widened in realization as he heard the scrunching sound of sand being crushed under feet.

Ichigo watched Ishida, the dark haired boy's attention fixed solely on the opening in the rocks, waiting with nervous energy and completely oblivious to Ichigo's gaze. He could see the graceful arc of his pale neck, stretching upwards to his turned head. The sharp edge of his jaw jutted out with the trademark Quincy pride and Ichigo felt an intense urge to touch him again, no longer caring about the unknown visitor.

He smirked, and opened his mouth slightly, his tongue snaking out and sliding across the hand still clamped over it. Ishida turned back so quickly Ichigo was surprised he hadn't broken his neck. His eyes danced with daring as his teeth gripped a finger lightly. He absently noted – from the increased panic in his eyes- that Ishida knew who it was that was so close to walking in on their… whatever it was that Ichigo took every opportunity to have. He held onto Ishida's wrist while his tongue dragged along the slender finger, sucking the knuckle before –with a lewd raise of the eyebrows- taking the finger in his mouth and surrendering it to fiercest display of oral gymnastics he knew.

A moment later the point of an arrow was uncomfortably close to his eye and Ichigo wondered if perhaps he had taken things a little too far.

The look on Ishida's face however wasn't angry, but the usual smug, 'holier than thou' expression he wore when fighting Ichigo. A moment later he could hear laughter. The unmistakeable laughing bark of Renji.

Behind Ishida stood Renji, Zabimaru slung casually over his shoulder as he laughed at Ichigo's confusion.

"Looks like Quincy got the better of ya this time Ichigo"

Ishida lowered his bow, tipping his glasses back up his nose as he gave Ichigo an almost apologetic look. Renji picked up his shirt, throwing it on despite the various rips and blood. He turned back to them with raised eyebrows, oblivious to Ichigo's disgruntled scowl.

"Geez Ishida, your lookin' kinda messed up."

He walked back to trap door in the same swaggering manner as always, chuckling as heard Ichigo snigger, and then the resounding slap as Ishida's hand connected loudly with the back of the Substitute's head.


End file.
